Got a Machinehead
by LePipi
Summary: Working under his brother, Gabriel, wasn't an exciting experience. Until recently, that is. The careful balance Castiel had built in his life was quickly rattled by a new arrival in the company. Said new arrival going by the name of Dean Winchester. ComputerGeeks!Dean
1. Chapter 1

Working under his brother, Gabriel, wasn't an exciting experience. It wasn't meant to be, and Castiel, in a bleak way was comfortable with that fact. Comfortable being the key word, not happy. Happy was ever rarely a word he associated with himself.

Castiel came to understand that if he couldn't be happy, he could be comfortable, in the least.

And there, in the dark, square room writing code for the newest installment in the updated version of their (or put more fittingly, Gabriel's) company's software, his back hunched over uncomfortably, eyes bloodshot from working too hard, too late, is where he was... Comfortable.

Well, he was until recently.

The careful balance Castiel had built in his life was quickly rattled by a new arrival in the company.

Said new arrival going by the name of Dean Winchester.

Dean Winchester was a name he first came to associate with 'mystery' and 'intelligence' and 'prodigy'. Later, as the name was attached to a face and a voice he labeled him with 'cocky', 'annoying' and even 'stupid'. And much later he came to use, ahem, different terms to describe him. We'll get to that.

See, he first understood of Dean, by the name of **Chester1967**, written on a board he used to frequent often.

Castiel being fascinated by computers, their machinery at an early age, found his safe place in the virtual realm. He found an outlet on the internet. Various of message boards, where he could say anything with no conscious consequence. His words were just a pile of ones and zeros that would be lost in the pool of other ones and zeros. In comparison to talking to people in his life, his words have meaning and they leave memory. And they have consequence.

If he ever felt angry he could type it out, if he ever felt sad he could type it out. He even talked to people he came to consider as something akin to friends.

The first time the name **Chester1967** pops up, is in an article written by a news station's website that was shared by one of his 'pen pals', as he likes to call them instead of 'friends'.

According to the article, a hacker by the above mentioned name breached the Archangel Zachariah Church's website, stapled a background of cocks on the page, and (Castiel had seen with own eyes) left an hour long gay porn video to run on the home page upon accessing the site(admittedly he'd watched the whole video, he was just interested in the hacker's taste is all).

All of the other pages of gay-bashing, military-hating, slut-shaming were swapped with pages the likes of 'The book of Gaydom!', 'How to give good head?', 'When in doubt, Lube Up!' and various listings of gay porn websites, instructing to 'Support the actors! Make sure to blow your load!'

He fell in a fit of hysterical laughter upon thoroughly inspecting the damage. The board members seemed to agree that whoever Chester was, he was awesome. But, nobody could understand how one person could do all of that. It's one thing to crash a site, but to change it completely and keep it running that way for more than a day took some skill and knowledge.

Even with this great feat accomplished (there was no use pretending to be sorry for a church that supports hate and condemns rationality) Chester hadn't stopped there. He fished out personal info on all of the members of the church and spread it out like wildfire. This wasn't just home addresses and phone numbers. These were nudes, intimate e-mails, church plans, even a couple of gay people themselves were involved in the church, choosing to act behind the church's back.

The media was baffled in the hypocrisy involved, and of the various crimes exposed in the info.

Suddenly it wasn't so important who did it, nor how he did it. Everyone was too busy with the drama with the members to concentrate on Chester.

But Castiel did.

The name **Chester1967** was signed on the end of every page brought on the site, and his interests were piqued.

Skilled hackers were a few, and he liked to think of himself as a capable programmer, familiar with hacking, yet not prone to using it, as were the people he associated with on the internet (although, he wasn't sure they just kept it at programming) , but this was a name he hadn't heard of yet.

Apparently no one had heard of him either, and things went mellow after that, the name didn't pop up anymore and everyone seemed to let it go, the media included.

And then, sometime after, another attack. Small, but it still made the news.

A series of network sites breached, personal info stolen from the members and the admin.

And then another, more serious one. Bank accounts stolen, credit card numbers, a lot of money went missing. And again all prescribed to **Chester1967**.

And then, the last one that hit it big.

Army OP's, top secret government documents unfolded, footage of the vile and disgusting that happened in the war.

And that's when the name Dean Winchester was unveiled and carried from courthouse to courthouse, advocate after advocate, jail cell to jail cell.

Castiel kept track of the process with great interest. He was there when Chester first became known and he wanted to know the end, he wanted to complete the puzzle. Who was he, why did he do what he did, how did he do it, and most importantly, was he going to be safe?

In a weird way Castiel felt like he knew Chester.

A fellow computer geek gone rogue, a man tired of being oppressed for his sexuality, tired of playing nice, tired of being politically correct.

His face was never revealed, they only gave the media his name and the rest was kept in secret.

Rumors circled around; about the case, that it was all too messy for either side to come clean, about him; him as a parentless high school dropout, an unknown brother who got all the money he'd stolen, a lot of things really.

Nevertheless, it was one soap opera Castiel was willing to watch.

And then suddenly, after months of keeping careful track, the case was declared Closed. Nothing more.

No verdict, no guilty, no not-guilty, no nothing. Just a big, blank, capital 'C': Closed.

This was, strangely, a very depressing time for Castiel. It kicked him right where it hurts. He felt like he was left hanging, like he was stood up by a promising date (and boy did he have experience with those).

The first months after the big Closed, he was a man possessed.

He spent all of his waking time in pursuit of his own closure. He wanted a satisfying ending, not a 700 page book with the last 10 pages ripped off.

He searched and searched, asked all of his pen pal's for information, badgered them to find some, to join him in his pursuit, inevitably chasing them off. Without them, he dwelled lower, in the underbelly of the internet, where lurkers were more prone to have information. None over there, only rumors. In his last desperate attempts he tried to crack government files, really anything that had the slightest chance to bring him information.

The last was a risky task, and if he hadn't encrypted his system and IP address so well, it might have ended badly.

-/-

Gabriel didn't even mind him.

His brother knew him all too well. Castiel was a closed-off introvert with a quiet mouth and a loud mind. His computers were his safety net to fall back on when the world let him down. He knew not to bug him, well, not bug him too much when he was in one of his moods. Though this one was more of a trance than a mood.

He was willing to let it go. Castiel was still doing his job, he was eating ( as much as he always ate, which isn't much), he still remembered to brush his teeth ( even though he never did remember to comb his hair) and he still got his sleep (which again, wasn't much to begin with).

Everything was A-Okay as far as Gabriel was concerned.

After a while Castiel fell back to some level of normality.

His blue eyes didn't look so tired, his stubble was back to its normal scratchy self, rather than that beard he sported, but there was still something about him, his posture, his eyes, all seemed to give a kind of defeated feeling.

Castiel would get over it, as he usually did.

He wouldn't even pretend to understand his brother. Cassie was a genius, but a troubled one, as they usually were.

No, Gabriel had more pressing matter.

The boy, the one that circled the news these days, Dane Chester or something was his big issue.

The FBI, the a_ctual_ FB-freaking-I wanted to put him to work for his company.

Gabriel, being the trouble maker he always was, had made some bad deals and ended up in a mildly serious (because nothing was ever serious with him) theft.

So, an agreement was made.

He was to take in Dane who was to work for him, while he was free of charge if Dane was kept in line.

They made it sound so simple didn't they?

Oh, how he wished it was.

-/-

The first time they met was a very peculiar occasion.

It was the first time Castiel ever felt clueless in front of a computer. Computers he knew, he worked, he understood.

But this... This was a first-timer.

He gave a resigned sigh, still staring at the bright whirl of colors on the screen almost as if they offended him.

He came to the conclusion that it was time for him to date. Real, face to face date with another male being.

The whole business with Chester left him feeling empty, sort of void. The place he'd buried a long time ago came out to the surface. He needed companionship. He admitted to himself that his fixation with Chester was unhealthy one, like being obsessed with a celebrity. He didn't want to be that person, the kind that forgets his own life in order to live through someone else's. And so, here he was.

'GayBot' was the name of the dating site he was currently so concentrated on. The registration page was a swirl of rainbow colors, too bright and too flashy for his little dark room of solitude. First he got to pick a username. He flicked through the members page previously to hopefully understand what was a suitable nickname for himself. He was met with a bundle of '12inch', 'woody82', 'jackndabox' and such. He thought about writing 'respectableindividual' in the username box, but then that was too many letters. He settled for 'cass'. He thought it was quite witty to put the extra 's'. Simple, elegant and, if he did say so himself, sexy. Sexy-ish. Or something.

Well, that's done.

'What are you looking for in a partner?'

What _did_ he expect from a partner? Perhaps just a living and breathing person.

'Companionship'

That was it really. In whatever form it came, whether it was friendship or a relationship or just hanging out.

Next.

'Interests'

Easy.

'Computers, programming, internet, learning'

Wow, that's sure going to pile up his inbox. What a stallion.

Who can hold a conversation with a person whose main interests are machinery? Who would _want_ to hold a conversation with that person? And what does he have to supply in a conversation about going to Rio de Janeiro, about getting drunk and dancing with strippers in a wild night out, about cycling to the Grand Canyon, about anything interesting and fulfilling? Nothing, only his interest to listen and nod along.

Aaand, moving on!

'Sports'

Umm, chess?

'Chess'

He slumped his frame over the desk and bumped his forehead on the screen. He was a failure at life. That's a fact.

Next was his personal info.

This should have been easy, or so he thought.

'Describe yourself in a couple of words'

Ok...

Why should he describe himself? People who describe themselves like to portray a certain idea of themselves and convey it to others, getting them to play along in their own little fantasy.

He really wasn't meant for this...

What was so alluring about his personality that he would share with possible partners?

'Quiet' –He typed out on the white keyboard with slow clicks, the sound muted by his forgotten headphones that hung snuggly over his ears.

And that was it. He slumped his back on the desk chair scowling at the screen. That was all there was to him. 'Quiet'. He was never adventurous, impulsive, playful or fun. He was quiet Castiel that sat at the back of the classroom always minding his own business and trying to be respectful to anyone that chose to converse with him. Respect wasn't something that got you laid.

"You could just type out 'tall, dark and awkward'"- A voice coming from his headphones startled him out of his self-loathing, resulting in a quick swivel of the chair which ended with him splayed out on the floor, a painful groan escaping his lips as he struck the linoleum.

He heard a shuffle of a chair and blinked his eyes open to see a very delighted smile right before him. The face that loomed over him highlighted by the dim lighting of the room was one speckled with freckles, green eyes full with mirth and a grin stretched ear to ear.

Castiel quickly staggered up, his knees wobbling with shock and sudden fright.

"How did you get in here?"-He coughed the words out, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment for the croaky tone and his previous meeting with the floor.

The man's smile only brightened, seemingly stuck on his face.

"Let myself in. Gabriel told me to look around, gave me the directions to my office. Didn't even show me around. Hey are you ok?" –The quick change of topic, the easiness with which he spoke, the way he walked towards him with leisure had him on guard. He wasn't used to people like this, to this light attitude. They always portrayed themselves as welcoming and ended up being assholes.

Walking backwards away from that psychopathic smile he stumbled on his desk, bumping his back there, and before he could stop to collect himself a set of strong arms had themselves wrapped around his waist.

"Woah, there. Wouldn't want you falling down again, right?" –Again that chirpy voice and that unwavering smile.

And again, before he could compose his thoughts the arms changed tactic, and hands were now brushing down his shirt and tie.

"Sorry I scared you like that. You got dirt all over you. 'Should get some guys to clean up in here."- The voice carried a nonchalance, the man's eyes concentrated on the job before him, which was more groping than dusting.

"Stop touching me." –Was the only thing Castiel could clearly voice at the moment.

Everything felt like too much. The new arrival, the fright that still thrummed through his body, the paranoia that this person could have been with him in the room a long while ago, the shame of the act he was caught in, the constant touching and lack of personal space that ran sparks through his system.

He just needed space right now, space to get himself under control and then perhaps he could get the answers he needed.

"Calm down, little buddy. 'Just tryin' to help."- Green eyes turned their attention back to Castiel's own, raising his guard even higher.

"I am clearly older than you."- Was the only intelligible sentence he could voice.

Which was apparently the wrong thing to say going by the way the other man burst into hysterical laughter, doubling over backwards and holding his stomach.

The volume in which the hysterics were played out was the loudest noise the office had ever endured. The sheer strength and liveliness behind the laugh had Castiel rattled, his heart racing. The last 15 minutes were the first time he could remember being out of his comfort zone since high school. The whole situation was alien to him, causing him to go from alert-zone to panic-mode.

The laughing man finally stopped, slowly straightening his body from the crouch he held over the floor, brushing away tears and stifling the last of his giggles.

"Dude, it's okay, seriously, just... You can't say stuff like that with such a... serious fucking face man."-He seemed to try to sober up, catching the expression of a deer caught in headlights on Castiel's face. Sadly, the effort to reassure him had gone fruitless, making Castiel's shoulders hunch up even more, eyes growing even wider.

"What's your name? Or I can just call you sir, since you know, you're older." –The bright eyed man laughed once more, but the joke flew past Castiel, keeping him silent with his feet locked on the spot.

"Or you might be into that thing, so I could just-"

"It's Castiel. Castiel Novak."-He interrupted the rambling man before he could go on, his eyes unblinking, voice the steady rumble it ever was. And for once he was grateful for the 'stick up his ass' everyone insisted he had. That same stick has kept him in self-control through his direst experiences.

The other man's open mouth fell to a small smile, his teeth still peeking out. His eyes traced Castiel up and down, deliberately giving him a once over. Castiel had never really been the object of 'the look'. Sure he'd had partners, but never in that way, never felt himself being something worth checking out. And he knew, dammit, he knew this man was only playing with him, trying to rouse a reaction, but Castiel also knew when to admit defeat. He had him there, feeling a jolt run bellow his stomach, his cheeks flushing scarlet of the effect the man had over him, how only his eyes could get him roused.

The bright eyed man seem to notice this too, his smile growing satisfactory, eyes glinting with entertainment.

So, he was the butt of another joke. Nothing new there. This thought set him straight.

"Now you answer me. What are you doing here and who are you?"- Castiel spoke with a leveled voice. The other man had his share of fun, and now was time for business.

"No need to be so uptight, dude."- He scuffed his boot into the linoleum, bending his head down in mock shyness, giving Castiel a look of his pouty lips.

"Answer me right now, or I'm calling security."-He also knew how to play, and he'd learned early on that people found the combination of his voice and bright blue eyes intimidating and sometimes even scary.

"Okay, okay." –Finally, that confidence was gone, but only for a second.

"You're no fun, you know..." –Again, that mock pout.

Castiel only raised an eyebrow in silence, his expression saying 'Well?'

"Name's Dean. Dean Winchester. Cops got me a job here, with Gabriel. You know, Gabe's kind of a wildcat for such a boring business, and to be frank... Hey... Hey, buddy... Castiel!"

But he was out.

Combination of feelings he'd avoided for so long, and then...

Dean Winchester.

_The_ name.

Over and _Out_.

**I've started writing this fic freakin' months ago, and I just can't seem to get it done, so here's the first half, I have about 5000 words done on it, so it's very close to being finished. Midnight Man is halfway done. Devil wears a leather jacket is coming along too. I'm trying to get in the back in the gist of writing, hopefully I'll be up and running soon enough to update the rest of my stories too. Peace to all.**


	2. Chapter 2

Months of working together with Dean, and he barely knew anything about the man.

Sure, he'd been embarrassingly pushy at first, trying to get any answer to his many questions and he'd been shut down as effectively as if his lips were sewed shut. Dean may be many things, mostly negative things, but he was also no pushover. And Castiel learned that early on.

And he let Dean know the same thing. That he may be as flirtatious and as coy as he wanted to be, but he wasn't getting in his pants.

He'd learned something new about Dean then. That he was also a determined man.

And he proved it everyday.

"Dean..."- Castiel sighed as he watched the screen on his computer.

"Well, if you're not gonna give me any attention, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do."- He spoke behind him, but his voice bounced off his speakers as well.

Dean had, once again managed to hack into his computer and turned his camera on so Castiel could watch him from his own screen.

And yet again, he was sucking on a banana.

"Dean, we've talked about this."- Castiel tried to keep his voice steady and sound as tired and exasperated as he willed himself to be, but he couldn't control his reactions.

Sure, he'd seen Dean do this countless of times, and he taught he'd eventually get bored of it, as would Dean. But, nope.

Still, those pink lips wrapped around the fruit, bobbing it slowly in and out his mouth, and dammit he could even see how his throat worked around the length.

It definitively had an effect on him. And Dean too could somehow see it, as he smirked into the camera and deepthroated the freakin banana one last time, before letting it go with a wet pop.

"Come on. I know you like it."- The voice bounced off the small office.

"Either you stop right now, or I'm reporting you."-Castiel turned in his chair to glare at the back of Dean's neck, letting his voice drop an octave.

Dean slowly swiveled the chair to look at Castiel, arms on both armrests, and the scene would have been very James Bond-like if there weren't a banana hanging between Dean's hollowed cheeks.

"Tattle-tale."- His voice came muffled from where he bit into the banana.

Castiel gave a satisfactory little hum, before he turned back to maybe get some work done.

"You know uh, I wouldn't be so annoying if you actually talked to me once in a while..."- Castiel sighed as his victory was short lived. Only the dead shall know peace from Dean's nagging. That was actually a good T-shirt slogan.

"I've tried asking about things I was interested in, and the only response you have ever given me was that it was none of my business. And then you'd try to grope me, with which you'd effectively push me away. Now let's do some actual work."- Castiel replied in a tired manner, sick of the same bullshit he faced from Dean on a daily basis.

A short pause of quick clicks and there was it again.

"Dean..."-Sighing came to be the only way to communicate around Dean.

He watched helplessly as the lines of numbers he was clicking through broke out in capital: CAS SUCKS BALLS! (AND NOT IN A GOOD WAY!).

One after another they piled on top of each other with miraculous speed, and just as he turned back to scold/threaten/insult/beat some sense into Dean, said man flew out the door with a loud slam.

Castiel turned back unimpressed eyes back to the screen and watched as the words just kept piling on and on and on.

He tilted his head as he thought.

Dean in a way, was much like a virus. He etched himself onto you, his face like a pop-up ad, always there no matter how many times you try to cancel it. You try to reason with him, but he always pushes you away, you try to fix that little bugger off your system but it wont give up.

And sometimes, you learn how to work around it.

Or, it ends up stealing all your passwords, bank accounts, embarrassing porn folders and before you know it, your whole system crashes and you have to start all over again.

Quick to pull himself out this depressive line of thinking, Castiel got working on fixing whatever Dean put to make the message repeat.

-/-

Dean didn't show up at the office tomorrow.

Nor the day after.

Not even the day after that.

And that was when Castiel started missing his little virus.

The constant innuendos... Gone. The flirtations... Gone. The insults... Gone. The smartassery... Gone. The stupidassery... Gone.

The bleak, numb, boring days at work... Back in full swing.

No one to bother him, no one to mess with his computer, no one to test his temper, none of that.

He thought it'd be great to get some work done the first day of Dean's absence.

And he did work. He worked and... And went home, after uh... Work. Which is what he did. Yep.

The second day he also worked. Boring, mindless, uninteresting, uninterrupted work.

And on the third day he'd had enough.

He stomped his way to Gabriel's office (stomped because of the snow on his boots, shake it off and such) and flung open the door (because only Gabriel's office had heating) and flung himself down on the chair opposite him (because only Gabriel's office had soft cushion chairs).

"Where. Is. Dean."

-/-

Apparently, the virus caught a virus.

Dean had the flu and was caught up at home, busy getting better.

So, it was only natural that Castiel stole personal information from his own company to find out where Dean lived so he could bring him soup.

Completely normal.

Just when he found himself knocking on Dean's door, wrapped up plastic bowl of soup, trench coat pulled around tight, did he just realize that what he was doing was anything but perfectly normal.

Wasn't even borderline insane, it was over the Mexican border insane.

And just as he got caught up in thinking about Mexico, and how maybe he should move there from sheer embarrassment, the door cracked open and revealed a big, big blanket.

And somewhere in the middle of that blanket was a Dean.

A sniveling, red eyed, red nosed, pale Dean.

"Am I dreaming?"- said a very confused Dean.

"No, uh. You weren't at work. Gabriel told me so... I thought I'd..."

"Come in."

-/-

Alice in Wonderland got nothin' on what he was going through right now.

Dean didn't live in a dark basement as Castiel imagined. He didn't live in some empty, run down, apartment building where he stole electricity and cable. Nope, just a regular, run-of-the-mill house.

The inside of the house wasn't remarkable either. Sure, you had to watch your step for tripping on a lot of cables , but there was a pink apron hung in the kitchen, the cutest little bookshelf full of classics in the living room, a little black table with a ceramic Buddha and a few family photos.

In the middle of all this, snuggled into a heap of blankets and sheets on the couch was Dean, surrounded by used paper napkins and empty cups of tea.

And right beside him on a footstool sat Castiel, a remote control in his hand as he dazedly switched channels on the tv, too amazed by everything that was happening to accept reality.

"Oh, oh, go back, go back!"

"Stop!"

"There! I forgot it was on! You ever watch 'Regular Show?'."- Dean mused beside him, voice raspy from coughing.

"No, I don't really watch cartoons. You should eat your soup, it's good for your throat."- Castiel quickly replied, his mind finally coming to accept that this was really happening.

"I know something else that's good for my throat."- Dean chuckled faintly, his eyes squinting in effort.

Castiel chuckled before he could think it through.

He turned his head from the tv and saw Dean staring at him open mouthed.

"Did you just... Chuckle?"- Dean's eyebrows rose comically.

"You should rest, Dean..."

They fell in silence, as Castiel watched the screen, trying to figure out what exactly was going on. He would sneak a glance at Dean, here and there, and see a very goofy smile plastered there, making his puffy eyes still shine.

"You know uh, I wasn't always so into trouble... I mean, trouble was always there, it's just, it took me a while to embrace it..."-Dean gave a weak chuckle as he broke the silence.

"Yes?"-Castiel tried for support, hoping that, Dean just might give him his answers.

"My mom died, early on. Dad went psycho after that. Took care of my brother for most of my life...

I never really had much going on for me. I never really went to college, never had the money. But I _did_ ghost college classes. Sometimes I'd ask the professor, sometimes I wouldn't. Got me interested in computer science... I met Gordon there.

I was just getting to terms with, uh, with certain aspects about me. So, when we met, I was, pretty much hooked. He was my first guy, and I don't know, I kinda felt it was important.

He asked a lot about me, and I think that's what got me so into him. No one up to that point had been so interested in me, it felt nice,, ya know.

Well, people've been asking a lot about me lately, but that's... that's not it."- He trailed off with a sad note.

"So, anyway, he told me he could get me a job at gototube, that I should move in with him in California. It was too far for me and I couldn't leave my little brother, the kid was just going through high school. But, then I started thinking... The money would be good, I would still be together with my boyfriend, I'd have my own place, I could meet new people... I could make a place for Sam to join us, I could get him nice things, I could put him in some fancy college. He always liked Stanford...

So anyway, I did it. It was all to weird, leaving Sam, leaving John, leaving Kansas, but I did.

That's when things got messed up.

I did get the job, and man, the place was perfect. They gave me everything I wanted, I ate whatever I wanted over there, they got me coffee when I asked for it, perfect ya know... But, uh, my job was deleting inappropriate videos."- He stopped and finally turned his eyes towards Castiel, who didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until then.

Castiel understood what he meant, but didn't know how to voice his compassion. He settled for a hand on his shoulder, giving a faint squeeze in comradeship.

"Everyday, man... Everyday I had to go through gore, beheadings, necrophilia, child porn, and even the regular porn got disgusting after a while... It messed me up, man, fucked with my head..."- Dean gave a shudder, his eyes going glassy for a moment. It was only in Castiel's instinct to start massaging down Dean's shoulder and to his biceps, trying to show his understanding.

"Top it off, Gordon started... Changing. I remember, one time I got back from work, and I was... Stressed out is a too small word for what I was going through. And I wanted to cuddle! Like normal couples do, sometimes you just want to lay down with your partner and hug, and that should be ok, right?"- He turned lost eyes to Castiel, as if hoping for confirmation.

"Ofcourse."- Castiel changed tactics, his hand seemingly on it's own will got lost in Dean's hair, smoothing through it.

"And I... I laid on the couch with him and he, just, he pushed me off and told me that, 'that's what faggots do'."- Dean shook his head in disbelief even if it were at his own words.

Castiel stayed silent for both of their sake. He knew that if he opened his mouth right now he'd unleash some kind of Kraken.

"Things got, progressively bad after that... They paid therapy for me, at work. Gordon started telling me that I had an 'unhealthy' relationship with my brother... Sooo, I cracked! I left Gordon, I left my job, and I left California, but not until I pulled off a scam or two. Came back to Kansas with heaps of cash, spent it all on Sam and bought myself a few gimmicks. And that's when I started having fun, and uh... Here we are, then."- Dean gave a not-so-convincing smile down Castiel's way.

Castiel stayed quiet, still trying to gather his thoughts from all the information he was bombarded with. His hand never stopped stroking though.

"Fuck, I've talked myself out, and here you are just-"

"Thank you."- Castiel cut in mid-sentence.

"Thank you for telling me this, I understand that I've been... difficult with you. And I'm sorry for that. But, I appreciate everything that you've told me. And I appreciate you. And... And I love what you did with that site."

"What site"

"The one with the penis background."

Dean's laughter was a healthy burst of energy, followed by the soft laughter of his co-worker.

**This was so intended to be a PWP, but eh, it got away from me. Next chapter is last one, and it has porn, so keep your heads up!**

**Also, thanks to anyone that read this, enjoyed it and reviewed it. **

**Sometimes all it takes is a little positive reinforcement. **


	3. Chapter 3

Dean was back in the office the next day.

And everything would have been normal, s_hould_ have been normal, except that...

Dean didn't mock him, didn't come on to him, didn't mess with his computer, nothing.

He brought him coffee in the morning and donuts on their lunch break. He even smiled as he did so, didn't smirk, didn't grin, full on smiled!

Castiel couldn't remember ever being so terrified.

He was on his guard the whole week as this went on.

He tried breaking down everything that had happened before Dean started acting... _nice_. He picked apart every moment trying to find something, anything that could make Dean start plotting against him.

He was left clueless.

Whatever it was, it was going to be big and he just knew it.

He just didn't realize exactly _how_ big it was going to be.

-/-

"_Hey, uh Cas, I'm just going to head out for some fresh air, ok?'_

He should have known, dammit, he should have _known_ something was up right then and there, right after those words, right after that door shut behind him, but nope. Clueless for life should be tattooed on his forehead.

Actually, he should have known right after Dean offered Gabriel that the both of them could stay up in the office and polish through the new program, make sure there were no bugs or glitches before it was up for shipping tomorrow.

He was typing away at his computer, headphones on his ears, dead of the night when it all started.

"Ah... Oh, fuck... Cas, Cas..."- Startled, his head jerked too fast and the headphones came off, the sound of moaning coming from his speakers instead.

"D-Dean?" –His voice rasped in the dead silence, disturbed by the soft noises of shuffling and huffing from his speakers.

"Cas... Fuck, I want you..."

His mouth came agape, eyes shifting around the room in panic, lost in the situation.

"Dean are you... Where are you?" – And just like that, his screen pops off, and there he was.

The country's Public Enemy No.1 with his shirt off, legs spread wide, hands burrowed in his crotch, face flushed, looking straight at him.

"Hey..."- And still, that stupid smirk somehow managed to appear.

"Dean, whatever you're doing, stop it, or-"

"I'm jacking off while watching you."- Dean cut in, his smirk spreading wide.

"And thinkin' about you... Thinking about things I could do with you..."

"Dean, I-"

"Fuck, say my name again. Love your voice, Cas..."- He gave a soft sigh, head lolling to the side as his hand gripped tighter.

"Dean, this is... I'm calling security, and-"

"And what? You gonna tell 'em there's a gorgeous man upstairs with his legs spread eagerly awaiting you?" Dean voiced softly, his hand still working on him.

Castiel stared at the screen and the man there, shamelessly calling for him.

That was it, wasn't it? Dean was calling for _him _, this was all for _him._

But, it was never that simple, not in his life. Dean was after all, a criminal, head con-artist. He managed to get away from the feds, who knew what else he was capable to do? He might have devised a plan, to film them and then threaten him for the rest of his life into obeying his every order. There might be something about him he wants, his job, his money, or maybe just to play a cruel joke.

"Dean, don't do this to me..." He was beautiful. And Castiel knew he was going to fall for him. Which was an outcome that couldn't happen.

"Cas, what are you talking about?" Dean's hand actually stopped moving, thank God, and the man straightened up in the chair, his crotch no longer occupying half the screen.

"Whatever it is, Dean, take it. Just don't make me go through this." Castiel shook his head morosely as he spoke to the screen.

Dean was everything and everywhere, inescapable, unavoidable. What Dean wants, Dean gets.

There were just some things Castiel couldn't give. He knew once something was Dean's it was lost forever.

"Cas, man, what-" But Castiel didn't stay to hear, and instead got up and out the door, trench coat in hand. Dean was too much, Dean was everything he wasn't and Dean he couldn't take, couldn't tame.

The voice trailed after him as he locked the door behind him, and down the halls he went, to hopefully reach the exit without further obstacle. And hopefully, get Dean out of his life. And then he remembered that there was no removing Dean, that the only way to escape him was to remove himself.

And he thought he was doing good, before the whole... Obsession started. And with him, with Dean it only developed further.

Castiel squeezed a hand over his eyes, hoping to push back memories, emotions, thoughts.

How hopeful he used to be, how willing he used to be. How every time, every _Goddamn _time he was left used and abused. How he thought all he needed was faith.

Faith let him down, left him a mess, and now Dean was toying with things he should know better not to touch.

"Cas! Castiel!" The man in question didn't turn, only cringed at the voice and sped up his step. He didn't have the fight in him to face Dean.

"Cas, please man, I'm sorry, just please, stop!" Dean's voice gained proximity, but the elevator was this close, he was ahead of him, he knew it, he could reach it just in time.

"Cas. Cas, please, stop for me, please." He was stopped just a reach away from his destination by Dean's body, strong arms holding him in place by the shoulders.

Castiel kept his head slung down, feeling vulnerable and just so tired from Dean and everything that was Dean. He could see that yes, Dean was still shirtless with his fly still open, black briefs peaking beneath the denim.

He felt sick to his stomach.

"You scared the crap out of me, Cas, come on, dude! What's wrong, what-what did I do?" Dean's voice broke on the last sentence, and Castiel wished he didn't notice it.

"Cas... Cas, do you need me to call someone, take you somewhere? Get you something?" Dean sounded scared, Dean whose arrogance he carried as a trademark, who took shit from no-one, who got what he wanted when he wanted it.

Blue eyes met him levelly, and the only thing Castiel could do was shake his head. Dean looked so unlike his usual pain-in-the-ass self, it almost made him flinch.

"Cas, can we talk? I mean, I-I get that what I did was out of line, or something, but come on, I've done worse. I don't get it, just, talk to me, please." His voice quivered with the broken words.

"Dean..." Castiel searched the man's face, and he found only conflicting messages. Dean's mouth hung open, eyes searching and wide, brows upturned in worry. Worst was, it looked completely sincere.

"Dean, you are gorgeous, you know this. If this is some plot you have against me, tell me what you want now and I'll give it up, without a problem." Castiel gave his side, and no matter how vulnerable and pathetic he sounded, he found he couldn't bring it in himself to care.

"Cas, that's fucking messed up, man." Dean seemed to deflate, but his shoulders still stood hunched together.

"I-I honestly don't have any idea what you're talking about. Nothing, seriously, _nothing_ makes sense. I don't know where you picked up these stupid conspiracy theories, but..." Dean stopped to lick his lips and measure Castiel with a solid and hard look.

"I want you. I haven't wanted in so long, and I seriously, totally want you. I've seen enough of you to be sure. If _you _don't want me, that's fine, but don't blame anyone or anything else. Just tell me outright. Stop scaring me." Dean tried keeping his voice a flat line, but Castiel was always a good observer and saw through that. He was obviously shaken, and Castiel was at a loss again. What then?

"Dean... You frustrate me. You really do. I don't know what to make of you." He said as much as he felt.

Dean licked his lips, voice a whisper that echoed through the empty hallway.

"Cas, I'm not asking you to elope. If you want this... Just reach for me."

Castiel hitched a breath at the spoken words. Dean was open territory, open for him. But he was afraid, so damn afraid, he could only stare wide-eyed at Dean, his chest, his neck, his shoulders... Until Dean made the decision for him and slammed their mouths together, making Castiel take a step back and hit his back on the wall.

Dean quickly removed his lips, though kept the proximity their bodies gained, and remained to breathe loudly against the other man's cheek, his breath hot and heavy. Castiel eyed Dean and all the opportunities he presented, and maybe, just maybe he could have him. Even if for just one night, he was going to give it his all, be it his last. He was going to give Dean everything he always kept reigned in, he was going to let loose all emotion and thought and love Dean's body like he wished he could love.

With the decision made, he pounced on him, trading places, making Dean hit the wall with a yelp, and set his mouth against his in a merciless kiss. He didn't leave Dean a moment to breathe, only kept going and going, his tongue darting against Dean's, exploring all that slick warmth he hid, and swallowed all moans and breathy groans.

Dean's hands grabbed onto Castiel's shoulders, nails digging in the coarse fabric, holding onto him for dear life. The sharp pain elicited a deep throaty moan from Castiel, which in return made Dean visibly shudder. In the moment, Castiel took a pause a just look at Dean estimate where this was going, and just then he was sure. Dean with his flushed skin, cheeks red and chest pink, mouth slack and spit-shined, thoroughly bitten, eyes wide and pupils blown. Dean might be a wildcat, stretch his legs and leave after his meal, but tonight, he was his to have and touch.

With his mind set straight he lunged at Dean, finding the strength and courage to let himself go. With his hands firmly grasped onto the other man's thighs, he wrapped up both of his legs around his waist. Dean followed the change with a surprised gasp and came to ease the situation, gripping Castiel tightly with his legs.

Castiel didn't let Dean a breath out of the kiss, the man against the wall following every wordless instruction with an eagerness Castiel hadn't experienced yet. The weight of his body was just a warm, welcoming mass, made to kiss and caress.

A poke at his stomach told him his next move.

"You want..." Castiel accented the statement with a role of his hips, his own bulge sliding against Dean.

"Door... Office..."-Dean breathed out in sighs, but the message was clear.

Unwilling to drop the warm weight that was Dean, Castiel kept the man onto him, Dean clenching ever tightly, as he found the nearest door to open and get on with it. The man straddling him kept kissing at his neck, licking beneath his ear, breathing heavily to add the effect.

He didn't have the mind to register his surrounding, only that they were alone and there was an empty table to lay Dean onto. He dropped him down onto the hard surface, and oh hell, was this a sight.

Propped onto his elbows, needing and ready for him, Dean with his feverish breath and glazed eyes looking at him as if the world was held into his hands. He'd have to keep this picture, catalogue it in his mind, for he was sure only the luckiest in life ever felt what it's like to be looked upon with utter adoration.

"Take your clothes off." Dean hushed, running hungry eyes over him.

Castiel didn't respond verbally, only kept his eyes on the sight before him and took to his shirt's buttons with a hurry. He didn't want to miss this, afraid even a slight stall might somehow send this whole deal in ruins.

Green eyes followed the undoing of every button, of every inch of skin that peeked out under the white shirt. Slipping it down his shoulders after a slight stumble with the cuffs, Dean's heaving breath hitched, tongue peeking out to lick his kiss-hungry lips.

Castiel continued, fumbling for the belt, not bothering with taking it off, instead focusing on getting his pants off, slipping the shoes and socks in one awkward tumble, until all that remained were his boxers which really didn't hide much.

"Take it all off." Dean demanded, his voice broken and so turned on, Castiel's hands begged to be on him.

"No. Not before getting you..." Castiel let the sentence drop, for he had more important matters to attend to, rather than fumble with his words.

"Yes..." Dean's voice dropped as Castiel took him by his ankle to drag him closer. He took to the man's jeans with a hurry. As he worked them down, Dean's hands got impatient and they were on him, hot skin grabbing onto anything he could reach, nails grazing his shoulders, fingers slipping from his chest to his stomach.

It felt so good to be touched, to feel want in another's fingers, he almost felt guilty. As if this was something reserved for better people, a reward.

But the lust was for him, and him only and he held onto that thought as soft words of praise raced his heartbeat on, and urged his hands on. Pulling down the jeans, boots and socks off he let himself indulge in all that skin, bared just for him.

His fingers glided through Dean's legs, light hairs catching between them, a meaty softness as he squeezed the sprawled man's thighs. Breathy sighs followed the movement, the frantic hands grabbing onto his neck and pushing him forward to meet Dean's lips.

Castiel returned the kiss with as much fervor as he got, and made the final move to get the man's boxers off. At this, the kiss broke, Dean staring wide-eyed and expectant, Castiel's eyes turning down to watch the bobbing erection that stood between them.

He must have lost himself staring, for the next thing he knew a hand was at his cock, squeezing until he finally registered that his own underwear was slipped down. And Dean's grip turning hesitant and slow, though not seizing to pump.

Castiel gave one last look at Dean's scorched red face before he pushed the hand off, and grabbed his legs, hoisting them over his shoulders which in turn made the man drop unceremoniously down onto the table.

"Fuck, man!" Dean voiced with a shout of pain.

Castiel gave an apologetic kiss at his ankle, and went for his main objective. His head diving down between the man's thighs and to his hairy middle, he kissed and mouthed with little finesse and a lot of passion. All his past imaginings and fantasies and petty musings about what rimming might feel like fell unneeded and ridiculous as his tongue ran across Dean. He tasted like sweat, like cock and balls, like _Dean_ which was so much better than any misunderstanding he might still hold.

"Cas, Cas, man!" Dean yelped, followed by a long and guttural moan, his holy body twitching at the unexpected sensation.

"Do you wish me to stop?" Castiel emerged from bellow to give Dean a worried look.

His statement was followed by silence, only deep breaths and a longing gaze.

"No. Hell, no. Just... Lube's in the pocket. Condom too." Castiel allowed himself a smirk at Dean's disbelief.

He quickly reached for the discarded jeans, rummaging through pockets with impatience until he found what he was looking for. With the small, plain bottle in his hands, the other holding onto the package, he turned to Dean and the display between his legs.

He could have asked if Dean was sure, if this was what he wanted, if this felt right, but he wanted to hold on to this firmly, to leave no room for going back.

He popped the cap open and ran the liquid between his shaking fingers to warm it up. As he did, he regained his place between Dean and ran a finger where he was still wet from before. Dean shuddered with his whole body and let Castiel take lead him.

Preparing Dean felt like a whole hour of soft moans, needy yelps and rough directions. But Castiel listened and did as he was told, slower, to the left, harder, crook it right there, take it back, go for it and so on and so on, until Castiel felt like he was the one being opened and raw.

And after, after Dean was a sloppy mess of 'yes's and 'Oh fuck's, Castiel dropped the last of his clothing and allowed himself to indulge in the deeply satisfied hum coming from the other man, he slid the condom on and placed himself gingerly, awaiting the final 'yes'.

When it came, accompanied by a 'fuck', he slid in, all warmth and easiness and all encompassing tightness that came with the push. He stopped to breath and adjust, Dean already relaxed and urging him on with the heels of his feet, pushing at his back.

The push and pull was an easy, free movement that clutched at Castiel's heart as if pulling him in Dean with all his thought and emotion, letting it bury itself in there, to be freed by all. What captivated him most was the look, that satisfied, utterly content expression on Dean's face, teeth biting on his lips, green eyes half-lidded and unblinking, staring right back at him.

It was all his doing, at that moment, in that room, he owned Dean's pleasure and he brought it forth, thrusts turning frantic and faster, losing rhythm only feeling.

And the most remarkable moment, the one would hold onto as his most prized accomplishment, was seeing Dean shout his name, feeling his nails dig scars into his back as the man's cum dropped down on his chest and stomach. His own climax came shortly after seeing Dean's eyes open softly and sleepy, the tightness becoming unbearable, twitching and holding onto him.

With the last of his excited tension he slipped out, cold and suddenly so afraid, so frightened, panicked. He twisted the condom off with nervous fingers, wrapping it up and dropping it into a paper filled basket, conveniently close.

"Cas... " That was worry in Dean's voice, previously rich with passion.

He almost felt it like a slap, as he hurried for his clothing, grabbing onto anything that resembled his shirt, slipping it on backwards, inside-out, whatever, important thing was to get away, away before the predator lurched forward and got the last of him.

"Cas, dude, stop it." No, not that faux relaxed voice, nothing could make him come back. He was done, he was so afraid that Dean got it, that Dean _knew._

"Cas, please." It was almost over by then. His hand on the door, trench coat in hand, he almost broke right there.

Without a reply he left, out the door and through the halls, trembling finger on the elevator and finally out the building, no one coming to stop him now.

With the cold night air hitting his heat wrecked body he stood to breath and let the panic wash over him in waves before it was finally gone.

He couldn't love Dean. And he had to tear out that building emotion before it was too late, he had to.

-/-

There was music...

Steady beat of drums and soft piano. Lulling and yet energetic. As if depicting nervousness. The nice kind of nervous, when you await something, when you're hopeful.

Something so familiar...

He blinked his eyes open with difficulty and heard it again. He was still unconvinced at his lucidity and snuggled deeper into the warmth. The music was still following him though, and somehow grew louder as if calling for him. He didn't want to go anywhere though, he was too relaxed. He was wasted, from the bone up, his whole body a liquid mass of relief.

But then the tension grabbed onto him, and instead of the welcoming music, humiliation brought him to wakefulness.

Last night...

He left him. Had him and left him. But Dean stayed with something much more valuable. He had his love. And Castiel wanted it back, wanted it back so bad.

A loud clank of something hitting the floor had him on alert.

He jerked up immediately, still not fully awake, head swimming with pain. With a hand on his forehead, he pushed the covers off, stood up with mild difficulty at the abruptness of movement.

There was muffled noise coming from somewhere down his apartment. And music, his music. Without much thought of looking decent when there was a burglar in his home, he looked for something, anything hard enough to land a fatal blow with. Books and books, only fucking books in his small bedroom, little money and less interest to spend it on something else.

He ended up grabbing a heavy 1000 and more so pages of a hardcover encyclopedia on world history. Careful not to make much noise, he clicked open the door and descended down the tight hall and to where he could hear the music and faint clinks and clanks. His living room/kitchen is where he or she was, and no matter how afraid he was, adrenaline told him he had the guts to do whatever was needed.

His steps thankfully unheard on the rug, he stopped at the corner, taking a horribly loud, shuddering breath before he turned the corner and- dropped the book on his feet, making him shout for God's mercy before dropping down on the floor to hold his injured foot.

"Cas, what happened?" Dean was on the floor, kneeling beside him, Dean who he hated, hated with a passion.

"You... You dropped the book on yourself, seriously? Wait up." Dean sighed tiredly, as if this was just something that happened to Castiel, his clumsy friend who he knew so well, and left for the bathroom.

Castiel sat on the floor, foot throbbing between his hands, and he hated the world so much, he wanted to yell and shout and curse, but was too lost to do anything. Dean made everything difficult, with his care-free attitude and easiness.

"Here... Let me see." Dean was back not a minute later, his hands taking the injured foot, and boy, did Castiel feel like a loser right then and there.

"It's just sore. Lemme just..." He took a small container of cream and applied it with gentle fingers.

"Says it should help with pain, or something... By, the way, love the boxer-briefs" Dean chuckled and Castiel took a moment to look at himself. He was wearing the bright orange ones Gabriel bought him. It was the first clean thing he grabbed onto after yesterday's shower.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Castiel finally got his voice, blunt and to the point as he always was.

"Well that's not quite the welcome is it?" Dean stopped massaging him, dropping the foot down, but remained kneeling.

"I didn't invite you in the first place Dean. I only hurt myself because I thought I had a criminal in my home, and I wasn't so wrong, now, was I? Now you tell me how you got in here and why you are here." Castiel used his deep voice and steel gaze, hoping it would cover up the whirlwind of thoughts.

"Ok then. Used a bobby pin. Turns out all that CSI watching did me some good-"

"And _why_ are you here?" Castiel cut in before that smile let out a chuckle.

Dean took a stop and turned his eyes away, something like reigned fear glinting for a moment there. He stood up and went for the counter, and just then did Castiel noticed the numerous pans and cooking material lying around.

"Thought I'd make you some pancakes. Since, you know, you were in such a hurry last night, I figured you got the munchies and couldn't spare a glance at me in hunger." Dean spoke as he rummaged through some pans, looking indecisive and nervous.

Castiel gulped audibly, and made to stand up. What he had done was shameful, and now, clad only in his underwear and looking meek is where he felt most humiliated.

"That's not..." But he didn't know what to say. He didn't _want _to say what had actually happened.

"Take a shower, Cas." Dean said after an awkward pause, finally settling his hands around a bowl and spoon.

"Dean, you can't-"

"I said take a shower." He finally looked at him, setting his hands with a thump on the counter, and in those green eyes ran anger, those words were a command.

Castiel only nodded, ducked his head down and went to do as he was told.

-/-

After the shower, which was undeniably relaxing he was in his bedroom. He took his time with the clothing. He tried convincing himself that it was because he was really indecisive, but really, he wanted to prolong his meeting with Dean.

In the end, he decided on a plain, grey t-shirt and jeans. He was at his home, dammit, he could wear whatever he wanted, and he was going to send Dean off and away, because _he _was in charge here, this was _his _territory and Dean wasn't about to sully it.

With that thought set firmly, he descended to the kitchen, where he was struck with the most heavenly smell.

"Hey... You like maple syrup or jam?" Dean must have had the time to gather himself, because he looked back to his old self. Chirpy and smiling, as he was always meant to be.

On the counter sat a plate full of fluffy pancakes, like the ones they show on commercials. Castiel never really had anything cooked in this apartment. He'd tried, sure, but he'd also failed.

"Dean..."

"Or powdered sugar? I checked though, think you're out. Plus, this is prune jam I'm talking about, best thing ever." Dean spoke as he gathered two spoons and grabbed the plate with pancakes to take to the coffee table in front of the television.

If only the situation was different, this would have been heaven.

"You have no right to be here, Dean." It hurt to say it, hurt so badly his voice cracked.

Dean stopped as he went back for two plates. He gazed at nothing for a moment before he turned his eyes back to him, and there it was again. The anger. Only it wasn't so much reigned in as much as it was waiting to burst out.

"You had no right to leave me like that last night. Like I was just a fuck." He spit the words out, and boy, did it hurt to hear it. It was the truth though, in retrospect.

"I didn't do that." Castiel shook his head in remorse, afraid to look Dean in the eye. He wasn't that kind of person, never wanted to be, couldn't even _handle _hurting someone like that.

"Yeah. Yeah, you did ,Cas. Finished the job, threw the condom, and left! Not a word, not even a glance back at the man you were just in, and left! Left me to clean myself up, clean the office and go home, like a fucking hooker!" Dean hollered at him, getting in his face with every stomp he took. Castiel shed away under the intensity from the words.

"It wasn't my intention..." Castiel said lamely, and even he could hear how pathetic and not enough that was.

"Wasn't your intention? Then please, explain your fucking intention?" Dean's voice took a dangerous low. He had every right to be angry, hell, he had every right to punch him.

"Cas, I saw you back there. I felt you. And you, leaving like it was nothing, it's not... I _know _what I saw, and I _know _it wasn't nothing. It was everything, Cas, and you were-"

"I'm not in love with you, Dean." Castiel cut in before he could say it, before it was out on the open.

"I'm not saying you are. But last night, you fell for me." And there it was. Dean knew it and now, there was nothing he could do about it.

"You can't lie to me, Cas. So, please. Tell me what happened?" His voice softened with understanding, and it sickened Castiel, sickened how soft and good he was, even after that.

"I... I can't afford to... Dean, if I be with you, if I love you, you will... You will leave, dissatisfied and unfulfilled. It's happened too many times by now, and it's just... It would be wasting yours and mine time. I am uninteresting, dull, socially inept, sexually hesitant and possessive. While you... You are wild and handsome and so gorgeous. And smart, sexy and unforgiving. You will realize what a bore am I, and leave. And I wouldn't blame you, but I would blame myself for failing us." Castiel vomited out his thoughts and fears, and though he thought this would set him free, he only gave Dean the ammo to attack.

"Cas... That's fucking insane, man." Dean laughed, taking Castiel's head with both hands to give his cheek a kiss. Castiel didn't budge, only stood stock still awkward and shocked at the reaction he received.

"Dude, you have some issues." Dean laughed on and on, like he was the funniest joke anyone ever told, but his hands didn't leave his neck and face. There was warmth in his laugh, relief, perhaps.

"Dean, please..." He had to stop him sooner or later, for he didn't seem to winding down, his laughter only building up and up, until it finally turned to slow hiccups.

"Cas... You're setting us up for failure before we've even started." Dean took one last chuckle before he sobered up.

"I get that you've been hurt in the past, with all that self-demeaning bullshit, but I really don't care. Honestly" He shrugged before continuing.

"To be frank, you're kinda amazing, and kinda perfect for me. And I kinda really like you. Sort of." Castiel couldn't hold a chuckle at this which in turn made Dean smile.

"So... You know, if you want to be with me, then I'm up for it. And before you go on ranting about stupid shit no one cares about, let me just tell you that I would really, really want to have you as my boyfriend." Dean finished with a meek smile and a nervous look to his right.

"I'll... I accept."

"Good. So, you never told me, syrup or jam?"

**There is going to be an epilogue to this, the whole truth about whatever the fuck happened with the feds and how their relationship is working out.**

**Hope you enjoyed this story, and hope it was satisfactory.**

**Thank you to everyone that has reviewed, you are all amazing and make me feel mushy inside and of course, make me want to write more. **

**Reviews are, as always, welcome. :)**


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